hope that i'm still breathing
by lealila
Summary: Lestrade is not an artist, but even he can find beauty in the small moments. Or: in which Lestrade breaks protocol and Sherlock loves John Watson. Kingdom!verse.
1. the first time

_hope that i'm still breathing_

_lestrade is not an artist, but even he can find beauty in the small moments._

Lestrade takes the first photograph on the case directly after the Moriarty bombings. And to be honest, he doesn't know why he waited this long.

The boys are kneeling by the body (man, aged 35, appeared to have died by asphyxiation, but then the med examiner is ten minutes out and John hasn't spoken yet), the early morning sunlight warming their backs. They aren't touching, but from where Lestrade stands behind and to the left, he thinks possibly they might be. Sherlock's hand hovers over the body, deducing information, and John tilts his head, watching.

Keller walks over, waiting for permission to start taking photographs of the scene and body.

It is impulse (not desire) that makes him ask for the camera.

Keller doesn't look surprised—this isn't the first time someone has breached protocol—when she hands it to him, before stepping back, as if afraid to disturb him.

He raises the lens and—as if by magic, because Sherlock hates pictures and even if he had heard Lestrade, he wouldn't have risked letting his face show—Sherlock turns his head so he looks directly at John, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards. Lestrade imagines he must feel (suddenly) amazed or pleased or in love because that tilt of his head and look in his eye? Lestrade has seen many of Sherlock's expression, but he has never seen this.

And John is missing it.

Perhaps, that is why (ultimately) he presses his finger on the shutter button.


	2. the second time

**_somehow, this turned into a series. also: lestrade thinks in run-on sentences._**

**_my thanks and utter gratitude to _**_Pinstripes and Buttons **for reviewing, and to everyone else that favorite-ed and followed. **_

The second time isn't as beautiful, but Lestrade is moved, regardless.

The boys have just chased Oscar Jones (wanted for burglary and assault) through the streets of London until John and Sherlock caught him at a dead-end alley and John put him through a choke hold until Jones fell unconscious. Lestrade was called afterwards and now—ninety minutes later—Jones is in the backseat of a squad car while John and Sherlock lean against the mouth of the alley, eyes half closed and heads put together.

(He thinks—fantasizes—that they share dreams of chasing shadows on London rooftops, of dancing with each other in the starlight while London watches and grins.)

Lestrade waves Keller over, and she smirks and winks and shakes with laughter, handing over the camera.

In the dark, in the early morning, Lestrade has to put the flash on if he wants a good picture; he risks being seen, but like the first time—this image of friendship and loyalty and love, God damn it, no matter what John says and doesn't say because what the boys have (what neither of them can describe), Lestrade has never seen it before and perhaps it will never be seen again and _someone_ needs to record it because John and Sherlock will never remember these small moments, these moments where dreams are shared and walls are let down—they chase and dance and touch and speak and write, but they never store.

Lestrade, then, is willing to do it for them.

**_if you have a certain moment in mind, let me know, yeah?_**


	3. the third time

The third time occurs at the Yard.

Lestrade wants Sherlock and John to go over a series of kidnappings where the kidnapper leaves notes (clear of fingerprints—they use cloth gloves, according to Sherlock (something about cat hairs sticking to the papers)—and cut out of magazines, which is dull, according to Sherlock _and_ John) for demands of money and leaving the number of days the family of the kidnapped to pay it off. If the money is not paid off, they will kill the kidnapped person.

The first family paid the money off quickly. The second family did not. Lestrade found the body (young boy (19), currently enrolled in uni, top twenty-five percent of class, has a girlfriend, his last meal was steak—he was celebrating his one year anniversary with his girlfriend) in a graveyard. There was one knife wound straight through to the heart, dying slowly.

Lestrade does not want the third family to bury their child.

Twenty-four hours remain.

The case file sprawls over Lestrade's desk, Sherlock bent over it and John hovering next to him, offering advice at random intervals and occasionally asking questions that guides Sherlock's deductions.

Five minutes later, and the boys are arguing over the cat hairs left on the notes.

"Everyone has a cat!"

"Including the victims! All the hairs belong to the same species—it means something, John."

This, of course, is when Lestrade chooses to fetch coffee for himself and tea for John and Sherlock in the cafeteria. Taking just three minutes, he is surprised to find that they have stopped arguing (because he has seen some that go on for thirty minutes) and are back to studying the file.

They haven't necessarily moved from their positions, but they stand just a bit closer, arms brushing randomly but consistently. Their heads are tilted to each other, and Lestrade thinks they must be murmuring to each other, possibly having resolved the cat issue. At eight o'clock in the evening, the meager lighting is artificial, but somehow, it makes John and Sherlock look beautiful, like comic book heroes; the shadows on their faces enhances the intensity on their faces. (Lestrade also thinks that the intensity is not just for the case, and maybe he's wrong, but Sherlock has fallen in love with John and it is quite possible John has fallen in love with Sherlock (though he has yet to see that deep expression Sherlock carried, just a few weeks ago) and when you're in love, that person becomes your whole life.

He makes a detour for Keller's desk, carefully pulling out the camera, before walking back to where he was previously standing. And with practiced ease, Lestrade saves this moment forever.


End file.
